Fear the Cute Ones
by MarshalZhukov
Summary: A cold war turns hot as Chang exacts his own revenge. Rated M for language because it's Black fscking Lagoon!


**Ph34r t3h cut3 on3z!**

Balalaika had a natural suspicion towards any invitation to enjoy an evening out. When she read who it was from, she nearly lit the card on fire.

"That bastard Chang," she spat. Alone in her office, she would not be disturbed until she called for someone.

"I would have thought he'd have learned his lesson," she spoke to no one in particular. "Or maybe he has. Perhaps this is his way of apologizing. I should have him naked and on his knees in the park at high noon for what he did to me. Chang's Bitch indeed!"

She snorted that last comment in a huff. Balalaika then picked up the phone and dialed directly to Chang's private line.

Three rings later.

"Ah, you received my invite, Madame," Chang spoke smoothly into the receiver.

"Is this some kind of prank, baby?" Balalaika answered cooly. "I am really not in the mood for one of your wise cracks this morning."

"You wound me, dearest," Chang sang. "And don't call me 'baby'."

"I'll call you any damn thing I want, fool. I'm still waiting."

"…for…"

"An answer, you idiot! Is this some kind of joke?"

"A joke? On you? Never," Chang cooed, the honey practically dripping from his tongue. "I only wanted the opportunity to apologize in person and fess up that you are the better of us."

That dropped Balalaika's mouth open. She had never heard Chang admit anything of the sort to anyone, ever. She had to admit, this turn of events was proving far too intriguing to pass over.

"...hello?"

"When and Where," Balalaika said finally.

"…wait, what?"

"When and where," Balalaika said exasperatedly. "Don't make me repeat myself. You have one chance to impress the pants off me."

"I thought I already had," Chang snorted in laughter.

If she could have, Balalaika would have reached through the phone line and strangled the insolent bastard at his desk.

"Don't think too highly of yourself, baby. A tour in Afghanistan was more exciting."

"But not nearly as pleasurable, I assure you, sweetie," Chang retorted.

Balalaika rolled her eyes. This was the sort of bullshit Rowan shoveled to his whores.

"Been spending too much time at the GoofFest, baby. You need a better class of friends than 'Jackpot' Pigeon."

"That hurts, sweetie," Chang pouted into the phone. "You know there is no one but you."

"Could you _get_ any soppier, you idiot," Balalaika snorted. "You have ten seconds to change my mind, then I am going to hang up this phone."

"Dinner on 14K, anything your heart desires," Chang said. "I will spare no expense."

Balalaika stopped counting at six.

"Anything?"

"Name it."

"Beluga caviar from the Black Sea, Afghan tea, Russian vodka 100proof and the finest Argentine beef, rare, but not bloody."

She thought she could almost hear Chang scoff in the background before she heard his breath over the line.

"Not much of a challenge, Sonya."

Balalaika's temper hit the roof.

"Never use that name again," She hissed into the receiver. "I hear you use it one more time and I will have your balls as fishing bait."

"As you command, Miss Balalaika. Do you accept my invitation?"

"I still don't know when or where." Balalaika rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time. Chang was certainly the most exasperating man she ever had the misfortune to deal with. If she thought she could get away with it, his body would be in the hands of that disgusting Ghost Woman and the 14K wiped from Roanapur.

"Tomorrow night, Roanapur Yacht Club, 8pm. Are these terms acceptable?" Chang asked with a hint of submission in his voice.

"Fine," Balalaika sighed. "No tricks or I will raze the place to the ground with you still in it. Understood?"

"But of course," Chang cooed once more. "And remember, this is a private dinner for the two of us."

* * *

As arranged, Balalaika arrived at the Yacht Club precisely five minutes to 8. She was nicely dressed in an embroidered white silk qipao that accentuated her physique nicely, her shinel draped as usual over her shoulders to ward off the late evening chill. Boris was under orders to wait in the car until called for.

"I don't like the idea of you alone in there, especially with Chang," Boris cautioned.

"Have all units in position and on stand by," Balalaika said. "We play this like we did on our first meeting."

"As I recall, you ended that night with three of his bullets in you."

"And Chang with four of mine," Balalaika responded. "I doubt he would care to repeat the experience. You have your orders, Serdzhent."

Boris stiffened into a salute. "Da Kapitan."

Balalaika was met at the front door by Chang himself. Balalaika was more than pleasantly surprised to see him dressed formally in a tail-coat tux. His hair held down with enough product to offer protection from a small caliber pistol. True to form, he was still wearing those ridiculous sunglasses.

Offering to take her coat, Chang let out a low whistle.

"Shenhua herself would die in envy to see you wearing such a dress as this," Chang purred. "And wearing it so magnificently."

"Cut the crap, Chang."

"Have you no sense of romance, none of mystery?" Chang looked visibly hurt.

"I am a soldier; I don't have time for such frivolities."

"For once, dear Miss Balalaika, leave that harsh attitude at the door and enjoy one, relaxing night."

"I don't trust you as far I can throw BTR60, Chang."

Sighing in resignation, Chang led Balalaika into the main dining hall. The lights had been lowered to create the romantic atmosphere Balalaika so disdained. Tea lights lit a few tables near one wall, a serving line created with delicacies and more to delight the palette. All this served to heighten Balalaika's suspicion that something bad was about to befall her.

The evening had gone surprisingly well, and that pissed Balalaika off to no end. The entire night, she had been waiting for the hammer to fall and it never did. Chang was ever the gentleman, seeing to her every whim with a clap of his hands. The obviously well paid Thai staff jumped to attention at the slightest lifting of a finger or glance in their direction. Out of frustration and a hint of boredom, Balalaika began to drink – heavily.

Not realizing how much she drank, Balalaika began to let her guard down. Finally relaxing her Red Army formalities, she actually found herself enjoying the evening. It was well past midnight when Balalaika lost track of the time.

* * *

Waking in her own suite the next morning, the blazing sun hit her face with full force. Wincing in pain, she rolled away from the annoyance. This action only served to exacerbate the massive, throbbing hangover she was now fully experiencing.

Balalaika sat up slowly, her head feeling as though it were being used as a punching bag. She called out to Boris, gripping her head as the sound of her own voice rang in her ears like a ship's horn.

Boris entered at once and snapped to attention. Balalaika, so wracked by her pain, was only dimly aware of the embarrassed look and faint blush on his cheeks.

"Water and Midol, now"

"D-Da, Kapitan." Boris saluted and swiftly left the room.

It only just dawned on Balalaika that she was completely naked. Not a big deal. Boris saw her naked once before as he carried her burnt and scarred from the jihadi nest were she had been held prisoner and tortured. No, that was the look of someone who saw something so out of the ordinary and so unusual, it was still registering in the mind.

Boris was certainly taking his time returning with Balalaika's medication. She lay back down in her bed, drawing the heavy drapes as she went. A light knock at the door sounded as cannon in Balalaika's ears. Gripping her head once again, she weakly called out:

"Come"

Boris approached her deferentially, that same embarrassed look on his face. In addition to the water and medication requested, Boris bore an express post box.

"This came for you this morning, Comrade Kapitan," Boris whispered, not looking her in the eye. He handed off the water and pills to Balalaika and placed the box on her bed stand. He hurriedly excused himself from her presence and quietly closed the door behind him.

Ever more confused, Balalaika took her pills, downing the full glass of water then reached over to the bed stand.

Opening the box, she found her qipao, a photo and a slip of paper. Written on the note was a seemingly random collection of letters and numbers and a short message from Chang.

"Now we're even for the pregnancy test, Sweetie. Love, Chang."

Looking at the photo it showed Balalaika, a huge shit eating grin on her face and a bottle in one hand, wearing something eerily similar to what the killer maid wore. What made the outfit different was that it was white, and came with oversized white mittens and a white cat-head shaped hat with massive green eyes on the front. To add further insult to injury, she was seen in Boris' arms being carried out of the restaurant while Chang, visible off to one side, doubled over with laughter.

Balalaika looked at the note again. The random cipher resolved itself slowly into something comprehensible.

Ph34r t3h cut3 on3z

Fear the cute ones.

Laughing so hard it split her head open once more, Balalaika resolved to fire the final salvo on Chang and end this game once and for all.

**A/N: I am not so good a writing comedic stories, so please go easy in your reviews. And yes, I admit to having read MegaTokyo…sue me. BTW, this story is _not _Broccoli approved**!


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